


Checkmate

by MoonSilverSprite



Series: The Law and the Paranormal [6]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Supernatural
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Kidnapping, Law Enforcement Pursuing the Winchesters (Supernatural), Loss of Control, Loss of Parent(s), Minor Character Death, Psychological Horror, Serial Killers, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-25 11:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21355531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonSilverSprite/pseuds/MoonSilverSprite
Summary: The team are called to a murder spree in Lebanon, Kansas. But not is all as it seems. First of all, the team has been lured into a trap by Crowley, even if they are unaware. Secondly, the brothers are stuck on the other side of the country as they rush to save them. And thirdly, Kelpie has abducted and replaced Reid again.With the teams' lives on the line and Kelpie spiraling out of control, will the brothers be in time to save them?Sequel to 'Mole'.
Series: The Law and the Paranormal [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1520543
Comments: 1
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after 'Scream' for Criminal Minds and after 'About a Boy' for Supernatural.
> 
> My sister was not pleased when she heard about this.
> 
> Breather89 (my sister): Why did you base your shapeshifter on me when I haven't had my medicine? Everyone will think I'm a psychopath!
> 
> MoonSilverSprite (me): Sister, everyone _already_ thinks you're a psychopath.
> 
> Breather89: Not everyone online!
> 
> MoonSilverSprite: Listen, quite a number of our conversations made it into our stories; some of the _Buzzfeed Unsolved_ stories, the Unsubs from _Riddles_, Crowley and Rowena...Anyway, would you rather be the basis for Kelpie or carry on being compared to Dean Winchester?
> 
> Breather89: _That_ was embarrassing! I am _nothing_ like him! I've never held a shotgun in my life, I don't swear -
> 
> MoonSilverSprite: You wanted to eat apple pie for dinner -
> 
> Breather89: I was eight!
> 
> MoonSilverSprite: You rush headfirst into everything, you play Eighties music -
> 
> Breather89: I used to listen to that. I now listen to Renaissance music. Remember, brother dear, _you're_ not perfect. I'm still going to write _Rat Race_ with you.
> 
> MoonSilverSprite: I'll let you make fun of me when you finally get around to writing again. I've already stopped the audience for about a minute now.

**February 17th 2015**  
**7.04pm**

She didn’t see him until he’d already opened the door. In the middle of making her coffee, she had been startled to hear the sound of someone in the hallway.

Reaching on her belt for her gun – an automatic response – she saw the door open and he was standing there. Her worries left and she smiled at him. “Oh, Spencer, hi,” He gave an awkward little wave as she went up to him. “I haven’t seen you in years. What brings you here?”

“I was interviewing someone downstairs and I thought I’d say hello and see how you were going.” He seemed a bit flustered. Then again, from what she’d learnt about him, that wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“Okay,” she picked up the kettle and poured the water, “Drink?”

“Yes, thanks.” He sat down, clasped his hands together and returned her smile. “How’s your job going?”

She carried on pouring the coffee and placed her hands around both cups as she talked. “Pay’s a little lower, but I have more hours at home. I’ve got to go to boot camp tomorrow, though, so I guess it’s a –“

She didn’t notice that Spencer was standing behind her until his hand was already clamped over her mouth and an arm circled her waist. As she was dragged backwards and out of the kitchen, she struggled to get away, twisting both her chest and her head from side to side.

“Don’t even try.” she heard Spencer whisper into her ear as they entered her bedroom.

He threw her onto her back on the duvet and immediately leaned on top of her, straddling her waist. Before she knew it, her wrists had been bound to the bedposts.

“Spencer,” she begged, unsure of why former colleague was doing what she dreaded he was doing, “please – don’t hurt me. I – I won’t call the police.”

“Bit of a problem, since they’ll end up coming here anyway,” Spencer pulled a video camera out from his pocket and placed it on her vanity table, facing the bed, “Average response time is ten minutes. Plenty of time to gut you like a fish and possibly clean up any evidence, wouldn’t you say?” He seemed eerily calm as he said this, as if he were giving another of his statistics.

Sitting on the end of the bed, he smiled at the camera. “Hello boys,” he said in a more relaxed tone, “Crowley’s very angry about the both of you, so here’s a little reminder of exactly what I can do. By the way, Crowley didn’t send me this time. I just got bored. I can send this to any judge, at any time, and no-one will believe this is not the real Spencer Reid.”

She had no idea what he was talking about. Spencer must have gone mad; he hadn’t been like this when she had worked with him.

Spencer got up from the bed to position the camera, while she watched him. “Please,” she begged, tears streaming down her face, “let me go.”

He pulled out a roll of surgical tape from his pocket. “I think that’s enough whining from you,” he slapped it over her mouth and straddled her again, “It ruins the fun.”

Pulling down her trousers with one hand and tearing her t-shirt with the other, he eyed her carefully. “Don’t bother struggling. The thing about shapeshifters is that we’re strong.”

She had no idea what he was talking about, but it was obvious that Spencer Reid had gone mad. He had to be. He was going to hurt her; she knew he was. This couldn’t be Spencer.

It couldn’t.

The good news was that it wasn’t him.

The bad news was that Kelpie wouldn’t be finished in Ashley Seaver’s apartment – or with her – until long after the sun had rose.

**February 18th 2015**  
**1.10pm**

When Hotch picked up the phone to hear about the death of his former colleague, he had of course been a little taken aback.

“Hello?” he’d asked, before one of the city’s police chiefs spoke from the other end. He’d recognized the number. Thoughts of Jack whizzed through his mind, but he forced himself to stay calm, to stay as formal as possible.

“Agent Aaron Hotchner?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Chief Gardener from –“

“Yes, I am aware of which station, Chief, but why are you calling me and not our former channels?”

“It’s not really a case, Agent,” the chief sighed, “Ashley Seaver was found murdered in her apartment this morning.”

A chill ran down Hotch’s spine. Ashley hadn’t exactly been a long-term employee but she was still someone that he knew reasonably well, even if he hadn’t seen her in over three years.

Before he could say anything – if he wanted to, that is – the chief told him why he’d called. “There was a piece of paper found at the crime scene. It had your name written on the back.”

“You think that the Unsub might be after my team?” Hotch asked in a low voice, hoping that nobody had heard him, even with the office door closed.

“I’m not sure,” the chief explained, “At the very least come and talk to us at the station. You’re not on a case right now, are you?”

Hotch looked through the blinds to see his team at their desks. Morgan was leaning back in a chair, as was JJ, both watching Reid do something bizarre with a plastic skeleton hand from the medical examiner. Kate was sitting at her desk, back turned to them, reading a book. Rossi would probably be in his office. Garcia was also probably in hers.

Since the team were a little close to actually help those investigating in any way, Hotch told himself that he couldn’t say that Ashley had been murdered. No, he would keep this to himself while the preliminary investigation went on. It was also too soon after Gideon.

“No. I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”

**1.30pm**

At the medical examiner’s office, Hotch waited until Ashley’s face was covered before he entered. He didn’t want to remember Ashley like this. According to the medical examiner’s report, she had died fairly quickly. The other wounds gave no such comfort however.

“At least thirteen hours,” the medical examiner had confided in Hotch once he came in, trying his best not to look at the corpse on the slab, “Bound, raped, mutilated, the whole package.”

“Did you manage to recover any DNA?” _It was very likely that they did,_ Hotch told himself, _Ash– The victim was raped for hours._

The medical examiner nodded. “We’re running it through CODIS as we speak. The strangest thing is that there was this piece of paper taped to the bottom of her drawer.” He held up a sealed evidence bag with a piece of yellowed, A4 paper inside.

_Just like with St. Louis. What they think happened in San Francisco. As with Lafayette. Probably Ohio. Feeling lucky, boys?_ On the back, he saw his own name, in big blue letters drawn with an ink-pen.

“Any significance to those places?” the ME asked as Aaron took the bag, staring down at the message.

“No,” he mumbled, “But I’ll send it straight over.”

As he left the office, Hotch wondered if he should perhaps telll JJ. Out of all of the team, she had known Seaver the least and would be less affected than the others. When he had finished the call, Hotch had a good look at the witness report in his hand. According to Seaver’s downstairs neighbor, she had seen someone go up to her apartment about seven the previous night. She had also heard the bed springs squeaking at past midnight and had gone up to complain. When she did, instead of Ashley answering the door, in her words a ‘polite, well-spoken young man’ had answered for her and apologized for the noise.

That was their best suspect, Hotch gathered. He looked at the description. White, late twenties to early thirties, wavy brown hair…at least it was a start.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Rossi. “Aaron, where are you? We just received a case.”

Hotch’s mind swam as he searched for answers.

“Aaron?”

“Oh, yes, sorry,” Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose, “I – I had to go out. Where is the case?”

“Lebanon, Kansas,” Rossi replied, “We’re leaving in half an hour.”

“I’ll be there.” Hotch ended the call, his stomach churning inside. He doubted he would be on top of form with what had happened to Ashley.

But, he told himself, keep calm and carry on.

**1.40pm**

Reid had just gotten home when they arrived.

He’d told the team that he needed to go and get the rest of his physics magic kit, since he was rather eager to show them balloon kebabs but left the gear at his apartment.

After taking off his bag and placing it beside his bedside cabinet, he picked up the new book he had taken from the library. When Reid had been a child, he would take out as many books as he could on his mother’s library card and see how quickly he could get through them. Ten books usually didn’t take more than three days, more if he had to attend school. This book in particular had diagrams that would explain the technique, even if he couldn’t manage to summarize for the others.

But then he heard the loud thumps from the kitchen.

Placing the book on the bed, he felt for his gun and slowly made his way to the kitchen door. Seeing that it was already unlocked and open, he lightly pressed the wood with his finger, letting it slowly slide open. Then he saw someone step out from behind the door.

It was himself.

“Hi, Spencer.” Kelpie smirked back.

Almost instantly, Reid felt an arm grab him in a chokehold. Dropping the gun to try and pull them off, he heard a voice that he had never wanted to hear again.

“Don’t even move.”

Crowley.

The King of Hell started to pull Reid back to the bedroom as the human’s eyes started to see colors around the rims. When Crowley was satisfied that his victim would be too weak to try to fight, he let go of Reid’s neck.

As Reid gasped for breath, Kelpie pulled a chair up from the kitchen. Reid was unceremoniously dumped on the seat. As his vision swam, he looked up at Kelpie, who was smiling back with a look that Reid hoped he would never use himself.

Once satisfied that Reid was too weak to move, Kelpie went over to the bag and pulled out the phone. As soon as he picked it up, it started ringing. He glanced back at Crowley for a second, who groaned, “Answer it, then!”

Kelpie flipped it open and answered, “Yeah, Hotch?”

He paused as Hotch started talking, unaware. All Reid could work out was that for the second time in three months he had been abducted by the same criminals. His head was filled with thoughts of his team.

And he felt terrified.

“Do you think this would look good on me?”

Kelpie had pulled out one of Reid’s jumpers from his cupboard and was holding it up against his chest. Crowley was standing in the doorway, arms folded and rather annoyed.

“I didn’t want to be pulled into this,” Crowley groaned, “I only agreed because otherwise Mother would still call me weak.”

Kelpie whined like a child and turned around, examining himself in the mirror. “If I need to fool the team, I need to look the part.”

“You spent _nine days_ posing as him!” Crowley grumbled, “To be frank, I’d say that was enough time.”

Kelpie looked over at Reid, still barely conscious. The BAU agent’s hands were cuffed behind the chair and his ankles were tied together. Kelpie bent down so that they were eye to eye. “What case are your team working on right now, hmm? Oh, of course. They’re investigating little Ashley’s death.” He gave a low chuckle. "At least, I'd hope so. I noticed Aaron leaving Quantico. I know the chief called him. How do I know, little Spencer? Well, I've got your brain. Tapping into phone wires undetected is therefore as easy as pi. 3.14, to be exact."

“I don’t see why you had to spend thirteen hours killing her,” Crowley snarled, crossing his arms, “Just stab and be done with it.” When Kelpie had shown him the video, Crowley wondered why his subordinate had gone ahead and placed Spencer’s DNA at the crime scene. The video would have been sufficient on its own.

Kelpie was pulling the jumper on and pulled his hair out from the neckline. Looking directly in the mirror, the corners of his mouth slowly turned upwards into a rather nasty smile.

“You’re not an effective King of Hell if you think like that,” Kelpie stood up straight, “Do you want Rowena to think you’re cruel and not just the Winchesters’ mild annoyance?”

Before Crowley could answer, Reid stirred slightly and started to mumble. As Crowley left the room to try and think without letting either Reid or his subordinate making him go even more insane, he instructed Kelpie, “Stick the gag on him then get to Quantico. I have to sure Moose and Squirrel are far away from where we’re going to send the agents.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters are coming, no need to fret.
> 
> I apologize for Ashley's death, if anyone reading this liked her. I was a little on the fence. I wanted to show how evil Kelpie could be by killing a former colleague and I didn't want to target Elle Greenway.


	2. Chapter 2

**1.45pm**

Reid had woken up properly a few seconds after Crowley had left, the room smelling faintly of sulfur.

Kelpie was sat on Reid’s bed, pulling on Reid’s newly-polished shoes and had picked up the agent’s bag from the bed. “I’m just going out to Quantico,” Kelpie explained matter-of-factly, without looking up at his captive. “The team will be wondering what has happened to you if I take too long.”

Standing up, Kelpie gripped the underside of Reid’s chin with his fingers and turned the agent’s head in order to take a closer look. Reid tried to pull away, grunting behind the gag, but all Kelpie did was tilt his head and give another sly smile. Kelpie let go of Reid, patting him twice on the cheek.

“I rather liked your team last time,” Kelpie stood back, placing his hands in his pockets, “They’re a tight-knit group. Understandable, I would guess, given everything that’s happened to them.”

Reid eyed Kelpie carefully. The shapeshifter could see everything that had happened to Reid and with the agent’s eidetic memory that was a lot to absorb.

Which meant Kelpie would have seen Tobias Hankel. The memories and feelings connected to the incident.

The look on Kelpie’s face – torn, downtrodden – meant that he was thinking this, too. He felt all of the pain associated with Hankel.

And yet, Kelpie was still putting Reid through this.

Kelpie was trying to distance himself from this. Reid didn’t need to be a profiler to recognize that. The shapeshifter smiled at Reid, grabbing the keys from the hook by the door. Reid glared back, unable to say anything from behind the tape. Not that he had anything to say if he had the chance. But his heart was pounding so loudly that he swore the imposter would be able to hear it. Did shapeshifters have excellent hearing? Reid reminded himself to look that up when he got out of this mess.

“You think I’m a psychopath, don’t you?” Kelpie asked, his voice calmer and colder. “Don’t try to deny it, Spencer Reid. I’ve been you. I know how you think. And believe me; it’s interesting inside your head.” Kelpie looked around, pulling the book bag higher up on his shoulder.

“Unless something comes up or the Winchesters catch up with us, I’ll be back at around half past six. Then we’re going to go somewhere where your team can’t find you.”

Reid tried not to look terrified but his heart was beating nineteen to the dozen. All Kelpie did was turn and walk out of the bedroom, locking the door behind him.

Reid struggled against the cuffs on his wrists, but he didn’t know why. They were secure; there was no way of getting free by himself. The apartments around him would be empty and he was completely alone.

Completely at the murderers’ mercy.

The only thing that made it different from last time was that he knew from the beginning that the Winchesters might be on their way to save him. But that was a big ‘if’ and Reid knew it.

**2.17pm**

“There have been a set of murders in Smith County and Jewell County in Kansas, by the Nebraska border,” JJ explained as she handed the files around the jet, “Three women murdered in their homes. Leeann Tolbert, 20; Daisy Fairbairn, 32; and Anne-Marie Atteberry, 16. All in the last eighteen days, most recent victim an hour ago.”

“All of them were tied to their beds,” Kate read the file aloud, “and the same message written in paper beside the victims.”

“Message?” Rossi asked.

JJ cleared her throat and pressed the button again. The picture this time depicted a piece of A4 paper with ‘Boys just want to have fun – maybe they shouldn’t have hung around where we could find them?’

“’We’?” Morgan asked, “More than one Unsub?”

“It’s a possibility,” Hotch stood up and took the file from the table, “It could refer to killers in general.”

Kelpie decided that it was time to blend in with the others.

“The population of Smith and Jewell Counties is fewer than seven thousand,” he twisted his fingers together as he spoke, “which means that each citizen has just over half a square mile on average. That might not sound like much, but if you spread the inhabitants of New York City over an equal area, they only have –“

“Okay Mister-swallowed-the-encyclopedia,” Morgan interrupted with a quick smile, “Let’s look at the crime scenes individually.”

Hotch opened the file. “It seems as if they were held for at least eight hours each,” he skimmed the paper, “Raped, mutilated and strangled. There’s no sign of a break-in at any of the houses, so it’s possible that our Unsub is someone they trust. Maybe an authority figure or posing as one.”

“It’s also likely that they stalked the women for a while,” Morgan looked at the team, “Leeann’s boyfriend left for the night and Daisy’s husband and children were staying with his sister.”

“And Anne-Marie?” Kate asked, turning the page.

“That’s the odd bit,” Morgan replied, “She was found in a cornfield the afternoon after she disappeared. She could only have gotten there by vehicle.”

“And by someone who knows the area,” Rossi mused, “This area is very difficult to find.”

Kate took a third look at the file. Leeann and Daisy had been raped and mutilated inside their homes, with their Unsub holding them prisoner from about sunset to after the following sunrise.

But Anne-Marie was vastly different. She had sneaked out of her room to see her boyfriend. She never managed the hundred and thirty yard distance. Anne-Marie had been found by a local farmer, twelve hours later. She’d been dead for two of those hours, her body found tied to the wooden fence.

Hotch came to the same conclusion as Kate, at the same time. DNA had been recovered. If they found the Unsub, they’d have him connected quickly.

There was also another similarity between all three victims. They were all blonde-haired and blue-eyed. _Just like Ashley Seaver._

**3pm**

“Crowley’s at it again,” Dean murmured as he drove the Impala along a highway by the Ohio-Indiana border, “Check the phone.” 

Sitting in the passenger seat, Sam flipped Dean’s phone open and read the email. He wondered why Dean had stormed in from a supposed job in a Columbus warehouse, almost literally pulled him along by the sleeve to the Impala and said they were driving back to the bunker. Now he knew. 

“_Take a good look at this video, boys,_” Sam read, “_The team’s headed to Lebanon, KS. Catch me if you can._” He then asked, “What about Cas? Do you know where he is?” 

Dean shrugged. “I tried calling him. Sometimes he picks up, sometimes he doesn’t. I left a message for him an hour ago to tell him to get his feathery ass to Kansas. No clue if he even noticed.” 

Sam swallowed. He wanted to say that it wasn’t surprising considering Dean’s spat with Claire, but he kept his mouth shut. 

“How long to Lebanon?” Sam ran a hand over his mouth, pushing himself into a proper sitting position. 

“Thirteen hours without sleep,” Dean mumbled, “About twenty if we do. Sometimes I envy Cas and his wings.” 

Sam then watched the video. Almost as soon as it started, he felt his blood boil inside. He saw the shapeshifter’s glowing eyes and the petrified woman on the bed. And he certainly recognized Spencer Reid’s form. Then he heard Kelpie say something quite interesting. 

“_My DNA’s in little Ashley now. Just as Dean’s is going to be in the Kansas ladies I’ve murdered._” 

There were a few seconds of silence before Sam asked, curiously, “Dean, what exactly did he mean by that?” After a few more seconds of silence, Sam turned to look at his brother, whose eyes were narrowed and only concentrated on the road ahead. “Dean!” 

“He – he means that my semen will be identified from the crime scenes.” Dean mumbled. Was it just Sam, or was his brother embarrassed? 

“Dean, why does Crowley have samples of your semen– Actually, don’t answer that. Just drive.” 

**5.10pm**

Landing in Kansas, Hotch and Morgan went to the latest crime scene almost immediately. This place was too far away from any regular airports, so the jet had landed in a field, much to the team’s chagrin. 

The others had gone to Lebanon’s police station to see the crime scenes. The local officer drove Hotch and Morgan down to where the cornfield had been cordoned off. “It’s a shame,” the man shook his head, “Such a sweet thing.” 

Morgan was taking in the crime scene. “Why would they suddenly leave the victim out in the open? Showing off? Saying that they have power over the women? That police can’t catch them?” 

“They definitely wanted the bodies found,” Hotch crouched down and had a look at the fence, “She wasn’t dragged here, but it’s at least sixty yards from the road.” 

“No blood found in the cornfield,” Morgan agreed, “He carried her.” 

“Has there been a match in CODIS yet?” Hotch stood up, asking the officer. 

The officer shook his head. “They’re sending it through, though.” 

As the officer walked off back to the car with Morgan, Hotch’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he felt his blood run cold when he saw the name. 

_Dean Winchester_. 

Trying to steady his hand, he pressed the answer button and asked in a worried voice, “Dean?” 

“Hotchner,” Winchester’s faint voice came from the other end, the signal very weak, “_D.C_ – detective – Ashley?" 

“Dean, I’m afraid I can’t hear you,” Hotch tried to stay calm but hearing Ashley’s name made him think, “Do you mean Ashley Seaver?” 

There was a pause. Then Dean almost hollered down the phone. 

“_Sulfur_ – Cr – Cr – Crowley – don’t go near – _Kansas_ –“ 

The call ended. 

Hotch called Garcia in an instant. 

“You’ve reached the room of wonders, how may I help you?” Garcia’s cheery voice came from the other end. 

“Garcia, trace the call made on my cell phone fifteen seconds ago.” Hotch didn’t say that it had been Winchester otherwise she would have panicked and that was the last thing he wanted. 

Garcia typed away. Then she answered, “From a county in northeast Indiana, sir.” 

“Okay, thank you.” Hotch ended the call and went up to the car. 

“What happened?” Morgan asked as his superior approached. 

“Jack needed help with homework,” Hotch lied, before seeing that the officer now looked haunted, “Is something wrong?” 

The officer licked his lip. “There was another note, found in the cornfield a few minutes ago.” He held it up inside an evidence bag as Morgan read it aloud. 

_“Hello, Dean Winchester.”_

Both men were now taken aback. Hotch’s brain was whirring. Anne-Marie had been killed at about ten-forty that morning. Dean had called from Indiana. It wasn’t possible for him to drive that way. Hotch supposed the brothers might have a supernatural teleportation method, but he still didn’t think that it could be these guys. 

Because by all rights, when he had interviewed Dean about his crimes, the man had seemed upset. He had refused to look at the victims’ pictures. Hotch had serious doubts that Dean had murdered anyone that hadn’t been a supernatural creature. 

And this note was addressed to him. 

Hotch thought about the letter in Ashley’s apartment on the way back. Looking at what he had written down – envying Reid’s eidetic memory – he tried to think of the places.

San Francisco. Madison Lamb had been killed there. Sam Winchester’s DNA had been found at the scene. From a very inquisitive Garcia asking Sam about this, Sam had said that Madison was a werewolf. He’d also had consensual sex with her. That had explained the fact that there was no bruising inside the vagina, Hotch had concluded when Sam said that. _Apartment, a lone woman, evidence of sex._

Lafayette, Indiana. Ava Wilson had been taken from there and her fiancee Brady had been murdered. The Winchesters’ fingerprints were found there. Ava had been missing for seven years until her skeleton had been discovered by day-trippers at a ghost town in North Dakota, along with Andy Gallagher of Guthrie, Oklahoma and Lily Owens of San Diego. _Woman taken from her bedroom, a vicious murder on her bed._

Ohio was a bit of a struggle, but Hotch mentally skimmed the Winchester file on supposed cases in that area of the country. A young woman’s parents were found murdered after she ran away from a mental hospital. A 1967 Chevy Impala was seen outside her house and she had been leaving with one or two men. Hotch couldn’t recall her name now, but he did know that she was still missing. Apparently, when Garcia had asked, since privately this had been one of her pet cases, Sam had made a face at her which suggested that she probably wouldn’t want to know. _Lone female, murder inside her home…angels._

Ashley. 

Dean said Crowley was back. And that spelt danger for his team. 

To his utter disgust, even though he didn’t want to think of it this way, Hotch knew in his heart that Ashley Seaver had been a lure. Perhaps so were these women. 

Dean had been telling him not to go to Kansas. 

Except now that they were, Hotch didn’t know how to protect his team. 

And that was the scariest thing of all. 

**5.50pm**

"Had a pleasant afternoon by yourself?" Crowley sarcastically asked when he appeared in Reid's apartment. The agent could only stare back at him, tired, frustrated and rather hungry. 

"Oh well," Crowley shrugged, "Best get you a little closer to your team." 

The King of Hell placed his hands on either side of the chair Reid was sat on. Before the agent knew it, he was transported Reid to a field with high, partially yellow grass. Seeing a well in front of them, the stone covering slab on the ground beside it, Reid tried his best to work out his surroundings. 

They were definitely somewhere reasonably mild. The weather was possibly the same temperature as in Virginia, if slightly warmer by perhaps one degree. The area around them was flat and seemed to stretch for miles. He couldn’t quite read most of the writing on the giant stone from this angle, but he could see that it was English. There was a symbol carved onto the middle of the stone, but he hadn’t known what it was. 

Crowley turned around and raised his hand. The chair lifted into the air, Reid along with it. Reid struggled, even though he knew at the back of his mind that it was useless, but all that happened was that he landed in a rather shallow well. The water was only half an inch deep and the top of his head was only four inches down from the well’s edge. 

“Would have chucked you in the normal way,” Crowley enjoyed Reid’s struggle, “but the stuff in here’s holy water. Didn't want to damage the suit if any of it splashed on me.” He reached in and ripped the tape off, “Don’t even bother screaming. Nobody will hear you in here. Should have used this ages ago. By the way, this place is warded against angels, courtesy of my loyal followers. And my mother,” he added as a grim afterthought. 

“Please,” Reid begged, “Don’t hurt me.” 

Crowley narrowed his eyes. Reid went very still. 

“I’m the King of Hell, agent,” Crowley replied, nastily, “I don’t honestly care about anyone.” 

“You care about the Winchesters, don’t you?” Reid’s voice was barely more than a squeak. 

A low growl escaped Crowley’s mouth. “I want them to obey me. So naturally I would care what the two are up to.” Then he paused. “Oh, one more thing,” A walkie-talkie suddenly wedged itself between his handcuffs and the back of the chair, “The shapeshifter will call when he’s ready.” 

Crowley stood up and then the slab closed over the well. Reid didn’t try and struggle again, since he knew that the walkie-talkie would very likely fall into the water if he did. Because it was his only lifeline, as he was concealed in a wet, damp coffin. 


	3. Chapter 3

**6.06pm**

When Morgan and Hotch arrived at the police station after an uncomfortable ride in silence, the rest of the team were sat at a table in the main room. Since the county had a very small police department (three officers were already walking around the grounds and that made up roughly half the force), the team had mostly been left to themselves.

Rossi, Kate and JJ looked up as the two agents entered the room. Kelpie’s heart was pounding inside his chest with excitement as he pretended to be immersed in an autopsy file.

“We’ve summarized some of the possible profile,” Rossi slid over his notes for Hotch, “The force are coming by in five minutes. If there’s anything you want to add, tell us.”

Hotch remained stony-faced while Morgan picked up the notebook, out of curiosity.

_White male (victims were white)_  
_Late 20s-Early 30s (Confident, experienced, forensically aware)_  
_Has a job that requires work during the day or is currently unemployed or on leave (Murders took place at night and he has several hours to spare)_  
_Likely that a blonde woman turned him down (Victims were young blonde women)_  
_If on leave, may come from same economic background as his victims_  
_Possibly has a vehicle or secondary location, as indicated by Anne-Marie’s murder._

Hotch sighed as he faced the team. “This – this is far worse than we thought.” His stomach churned inside. How was it that he could feel this bad for the second time in less than a month?

“Yesterday, Ashley Seaver was murdered in her apartment.”

Rossi and Morgan stared at him in disbelief. JJ and Kate simply looked concerned for their teammates. Kelpie looked down at the ground, pretending to feel distraught.

“Hotch, why didn’t you –“ Morgan began, but Hotch finished quickly.

“She was tortured for some hours, raped and left tied to her bed. A note – was found inside her bedside drawer, addressed to me. And it gets worse,” he gripped the sides of his arms with his fingers, “There was a note found at Anne-Marie’s murder site. Addressed to Dean Winchester.”

“What was that mean?” JJ was the only one who found her voice.

“We could be dealing with the supernatural here,” Hotch sighed, “And – Dean Winchester called me.”

“Called you?” Kate asked.

Hotch nodded. “He’s in Indiana, but he’s coming to Kansas. He told me – told me that we shouldn’t go to Kansas. Because the King of Hell is here.”

The reality of the situation sunk in for the agents. Not just because the murders of three innocent women may have been a decoy, not only that Ashley had been murdered by the same – Unsub – but that an actual demon, the King of Hell, was after them.

Kelpie rushed to the station bathroom to call Crowley. The others let him go, thinking that Reid was worried about his experience.

After a brief silence Rossi asked, “What do we do?”

Hotch searched his brain for an answer, before settling with, “Tell the local police that we have a good idea of who our Unsub is. That he is a fugitive with a lot of support behind him. Say, organized crime. That everyone needs to take precaution and that we have some other agents – the brothers, but we don’t say who they are, of course – coming on short notice from a few states over. Agents that have had prior experience with the Unsub. I’ll call the Winchesters back; see if I have a better signal this time.”

“What should we say the fugitive is called?” Kate asked. Not exactly the first question that came to her mind, but the only one that sounded as if it came from an FBI agent’s mouth and not an inmate from a mental hospital.

Hotch thought quickly. The Winchesters hadn’t applied a first name for the King of Hell, come to think of it. Hotch wasn’t really sure if he had one. “Just Crowley for now.” Hotch started to walk away, pulling his phone from his pocket. The others all went off to do as Hotch had instructed. Aside from Morgan, who followed Kelpie into the bathroom.

Kelpie was standing with his back to the door, arms folded and grabbing around Reid’s skinny frame. He stayed completely still, not even bothering to turn around.

“Reid,” Morgan tried his best to comfort who he thought was his friend, “if you want to talk about it, that’s fine.”

“I’m all right.” Kelpie replied in an eerily calm tone of voice.

Morgan placed his hands in his pockets, looking down at the ground. He felt hopeless. Going after a highly dangerous and sly Unsub was one thing, but when said Unsub was an actual creature from the darkness…

“I understand. I mean, we worked with Ashley. And it’s so soon after Gideon.”

Kelpie turned on his heel, raising an eyebrow. “Gideon?” he asked, bewildered. What did the former agent have to do with this?

“Gideon’s murder?”

A wave of borrowed anger, desperation and confusion flooded through Kelpie. He wondered if he would keel over with shock. He knew how much Spencer Reid had looked up to the man. How much he had been broken by his departure. To Kelpie, this was all just snippets of information to appear as the agent.

But these…feelings…Spencer had loved the old man, looked up to him. Why was Kelpie reacting in this way?

He had spent too long as Spencer Reid. He should have shed this skin when he had the chance. Kelpie stormed out of the bathroom, out of the station and across the fields of long grass, determined.

Inside the well, Reid was shivering. He wondered if he would freeze to death before anyone found him. When he was trying to come up with anything about escaping from a well, his mind had stumbled across a story from the very back of his mind. An English folk tale about the moon deciding to come to Earth as a maiden. ‘The Buried Moon’, that was the name. The moon apparently got snagged inside of a well and the creatures that prowled around at night sealed her inside with a giant stone on top. With no moonlight, the evil creatures wrecked havoc, causing the people to ask a wise woman about how to stop this. She gave them advice on how to set the moon free from her prison. The people found the well and pushed the stone off, letting the moon soar back into the sky.

Of course Reid knew the flaws in the tale, which of course were only discovered due to advances in science over the centuries after the tale had first been recorded, but it was a rather interesting story nevertheless.

Spencer started to wonder why he was thinking of this story when he saw the slab being opened again. It was dark, the only light shining inside the well came from a flashlight. Watching himself sit down cross-legged only centimetres above his head, and stare down at him with a horrible smile made Reid feel even more uncomfortable than before.

“You have a very interesting life, Spencer Reid,” Kelpie spoke slowly and clearly, interested, “Your childhood has Unsub written all over it. How do you choose to be good and not to be bad?”

Reid wasn’t sure if Kelpie really wanted to know.

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Answer the question, Spencer.”

Reid swallowed. “I guess that – perhaps I told myself that if I was good, it would be better overall for everyone else.”

“And what about you, Spencer?” Kelpie raised his voice a tiny bit, “How do you feel? Don’t you want to revel in darkness?”

_Like you?_ Reid thought.

Kelpie carried on. “An absent father, a crazy mother, a little boy who would do anything to please her, how very like a Hitchcock movie. A scared, worried little boy that thinks if he takes one wrong step then it’s game over and the worst things will happen.” He tilted his head. “What must it be like, to live undiagnosed for so long? To wonder exactly what these strange feelings are inside of you and how much you think that you’re being tormented inside –“

“You saw my life,” Reid argued, trying to keep a steady head, “You’d know.”

“We see the basics,” Kelpie replied, “You love your mother. You hate your mother. You don’t want to have to keep going to her, to know how much she’s deteriorating –“

“But I need to,” Reid answered for him. The corner of Kelpie’s lip turned upwards, amused. Or was he agreeing with Reid?

“You’re always going to be the child,” Kelpie tilted his head, deep in thought, perhaps feeling some empathy, “Wondering why everyone around you acted so different. You completely skipped puberty and headed straight into adulthood. Maybe _too_ fast. You –“

“ – Never had time to enjoy myself,” Reid squirmed, or as best as he could when tied to a chair, “I couldn’t bring my emotions out. I had to focus…to focus on the bad guys, to work out the answers to the puzzles.”

Kelpie nodded. “Otherwise the worst would happen. Little tics, the smallest obsessions, swarming around your mind.” He paused.

“Our mind.”

“I’m not you,” Reid shook his head, “You might have my face, but we are two different people. You’re not even human.”

“I may not be human,” Kelpie leaned down and lay on his stomach, his slender fingers reaching inside the well and twisting Spencer’s hair playfully, “I may be a monster, but I know what I want and I won’t stop until I get it.”

Then Reid asked, “Why are you here, asking all of this? What happened?”

Kelpie paused. Then he asked, downtrodden, “How long ago did Jason Gideon die?”

That was it? That was why the monster had come to check on his prisoner? Then Reid realized. Kelpie had mirrored him perfectly.

Too perfectly.

“Twenty-two days ago. Listen,” Reid tried to sit up, but found it too difficult to do, “What happened to make you ask?”

Silence.

“You can open up about your feelings, you know.” Reid tried again.

Kelpie didn’t say anything. Instead, he stood up and pulled the slab back over, before Reid heard the shapeshifter’s footsteps growing fainter and further away.

**7.40pm**

“Cas, pick up!” Dean tried the phone again, growling as it went once again to voicemail.

The two of them had stopped outside a gas station somewhere near the border with Illinois. Sam had just come out with two cheeseburgers and fries – the gas stations always had terrible food, but it would do for now – and Dean had been trying to get through to Cas.

Dean sighed, ran a hand down his face and closed his eyes in concentration. He was praying again, hoping that the angel could hear him, or at least wanted to listen.

Opening his eyes, Dean sat in the back as he grabbed the cheeseburger and mumbled a ‘thank you’ to his brother. He was going to rest while Sam took the next leg of the journey. Then he glanced down at the plastic fork with his burger.

“Really?” he asked Sam, as the car started to drive away and towards their destination, “Plastic cutlery?”

“It’s a gas station, Dean,” Sam sighed, “What were you expecting, stainless steel?”

Dean grunted before he opened the phone again. “Cas not answering?” Sam asked him.

“Nope,” Dean muttered, before he dialled Crowley’s number. “Hi, Crowley. Dean here. Heard about your little escapade with the shapeshifter. Just – just remember that if you do anything to the chatterbox or his team, when I find you I’m going to stick a plastic fork in you.”

He hung up and settled back down on the seat. Best to get some rest while he could. He definitely needed to be in peak condition.

He only hoped that the team could survive the next ten hours.


	4. Chapter 4

**11.50pm**

The brothers had just about reached the Mississippi, ten miles north of St. Louis. They knew that they still had seven hours to go, but Sam had finished his stretch and Dean was still asleep in the back. When they’d been young, Dad had often gone days with very little sleep. But he was a trained soldier, they realized when they got older. They couldn’t do the same when they’d been little boys. As made obvious when Dean once fell asleep during a fifth-grade play. Onstage.

Even now they would sometimes have trouble drifting off. Sam parked the car in a parking lot and pulled his phone out from his pocket. Trying Cas again, he came up with nothing.

Then he tried Agent Hotchner’s phone. Still nothing. The signal was horrendous. He sighed and lay back on the seat, unknowingly let himself drift away.

In Kansas, Hotch was already in his motel room, the one he’d booked to share with Rossi. The motel here was ridiculously small, with only half a dozen rooms. It matched up with the number of townsfolk, to be brutally honest.

He’d been at a loss as to what to do to protect himself. When he’d gone to JJ and Kate’s room, he found that JJ had scrawled a Devil’s Trap above the door in pen. She’d blushed when he had noticed, promising to clean the sigil once they were finished in Lebanon.

For now, Hotch sat on his bed, thoughts buzzing around inside his head. He’d read up a little on the supernatural when the Winchesters had left Quantico. But he wondered how much of the lore was true.

He’d forced himself to concentrate on the criminals he could stop, the lives he could save. But he’d always found himself wondering nonetheless.

The case with Emily’s friend and the exorcisms. The poisoned holy water had only been a theory. How many of the psychics that the team had encountered were genuine? When they’d gone to Florida, during that time when Reid had been having headaches that mysteriously ceased once they returned to Virginia, had they really been caused by something else?

And then there were some unsolved cases, hidden deep inside the files from years back. Hotch already knew about the Watertown beheadings, of course, linked to John Winchester himself. But sometimes he would glimpse words from the files and think again of the brothers.

_‘Victim said that the man who had been visiting their house felt like their dog…’, ‘…victim’s daughter said that fairies took mommy.’, ‘John Doe found beheaded in South Dakota. Deceased also had unusually sharp teeth.’, ‘...and upon wakening, victim said that the man who killed her husband was the same one who killed her boyfriend thirty-five years prior, but hadn’t aged a day…’_

Hotch was drawn from his thoughts by JJ knocking on the open door. “Hey, Hotch.” She walked in, trying her best to give a comforting smile.

“Oh, hello, JJ.” He stood up from his bed and rubbed his eyebrows with his fingers.

“Have the brothers called yet?” she asked.

Hotch shook his head. “Couldn’t hear anything. Where’s everyone else?”

“Oh, Rossi and Morgan went back to the station. Kate’s talking to the victims’ families. Reid was having dinner in his room. It all sounds so – bizarre, the whole concept of it. I hope we don’t have to deal with this again.”

Hotch nodded. “I hope so, too. I told myself just to think of them as Unsubs. It – it helps me stay focused.”

“Me too,” JJ folded her arms.

A few moments of silence passed before Hotch’s phone vibrated. It was Garcia.

“You’re on speaker, Garcia.” Hotch placed the phone down on the table.

“I think you need to set the iPad up, sir.” Garcia explained. JJ took it out of the nearby suitcase and placed it on the table. At once, Garcia’s face came out from the screen. She looked very nervous.

“Why, Garcia?” Hotch asked, feeling his blood run cold.

“Sir, I think I found a video of Ashley Seaver’s murder. I haven’t watched it yet; it was sent through on my email.” Garcia swallowed as she faced them from the screen.

Hotch sat up and looked at the screen as his gut twisted. “Show it, Garcia.”

“Are you sure?” Garcia asked him.

Hotch nodded. “Yes.”

He braced himself to watch it as JJ nervously turned her head, chewing her nail.

The screen changed to Ashley’s bedroom. They saw Ashley lying on her bed, her hands tied to the railings. She had tape on her mouth but it wasn’t enough to muffle her sobbing. The assailant moved around her, placing the camera on the bedside table, leaning it down enough so that he wasn’t visible.

Ashley turned her head towards the camera, eyes squeezed shut. A slender finger wiped the tear from her right cheek and then slammed a letter-opener into the table in front of the camera, partially obscuring her from view.

She gave out a sob and turned her head away, but he soothed her cheek and yanked the letter-opener out from the wood. He brushed some of her hair out of the way with said letter-opener and stood up from the bed.

“He’s good.” Hotch muttered to himself, but as much as he wanted to pull his eyes away, he felt trapped.

The attacker picked up the camera and brought it to his face.

Although they could see the two glowing eyes, it made Hotch and JJ almost jump out of their seats. From the other end, Garcia gave a small shriek.

Kelpie stared back at them. “Hi,” he waved with the letter-opener in his hand, “The boys haven’t caught us yet. Neither will you. Try anything stupid and I won’t kill Spencer; I’ll send this tape to the cops. I’ve got a good four hours of footage. Must be going; can’t keep Ashley waiting.”

At that point the lights went out in the room.

“What was that?” JJ asked, looking around. Hotch looked towards the windows, before he remembered that he’d locked them and lined the windowsill with salt to keep out demons.

JJ and Hotch heard the sound of gas escaping a canister before they smelt it. The door slammed shut as soon as the canister had been thrown in.

It was sweet and sickly and even though they could tell that it was very likely to be chloroform and not something more dangerous, they pulled themselves out of their seats and pulled their shirts up over their faces, attempting to get as close to the ground as possible.

At Quantico, Garcia ripped her headset off and made her way to the door, before it opened in front of her. There was a man standing there, staring at her and tilting his head.

Garcia grabbed a pencil from the desk behind her, telling herself that she was going to fight her way out even if it meant attacking a demon with a pencil, as ridiculous as that sounded. She was not going to go down like a blonde in a horror movie.

But when the figure stepped inside, he didn’t try to fight her.

“Do not be afraid,” he spoke to Garcia in a raspy voice, “The Winchesters sent me.”

“How can I trust you?” she tried not to let her voice tremble, but then she took a good look at him and thought about the files on the brothers.

“My name is Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord. And the boys told me that the BAU was in trouble.”

**February 19th 2015**  
**12.15am**

Sitting at the entrance to a cornfield in the middle of Kansas in the middle of the night, with barely any time to sleep or anything to eat in eight hours was usually not the way Morgan wanted to spend a Thursday night. Doing it while looking for an Unsub who was the actual King of Hell caused this night to make it onto the top ten worst nights of his life. He didn’t exactly have a ranking, but he knew that it was lower than the nights Hankel had taken Reid, Emily had ‘died’ and the night after his father died, but higher than when Morgan had spent a night locked up in Chicago before Buford had been arrested.

Since Morgan had actually seen the King of Hell himself, even holding a gun on him without a second thought, he’d gone out with Rossi to search.

Rossi was mildly unimpressed with Morgan’s description of Crowley. “I’d at least have thought a demon would be over six feet tall.” Rossi murmured as he shifted in his seat inside the police car.

Morgan just rested his head on his fist and closed his eyes. This was going to take all night.

**12.16am**

Both Dean and Sam woke to the sound of screaming from inside the Impala.

When they turned their seats, they saw Castiel sitting on the back, next to a very frightened Penelope Garcia, who was flicking her eyes about her surroundings and mumbling something under her breath.

“Cas? How many times do I have to tell you not to appear inside the car?” Dean almost shouted. Then he asked, “Where were you? I’ve tried calling you.”

“I attempted to assist the agents in looking for their agent. While I noticed that the shapeshifter had blended into their group, I attempted to search for the agent. I could not find anything. It seems that wherever he is, he is warded against angels.”

Sam glanced over at Penelope, who was looking at Castiel with wide eyes. Sam asked, as calm a voice as he could muster, “Garcia, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, pushing her glasses up, “B-But Hotch and JJ are in trouble.”

Before either brother could ask what had happened, Castiel opened his mouth. “Penelope has explained to me that the shapeshifter not only has the agent hostage, but two more prisoners at a separate location.”

“Great, just great.” Dean turned around in his seat and gripped the steering wheel.

Then Castiel told the brothers, “We have to go to the bunker immediately. The longer I spend with you, the longer Crowley has the team in his sights.”

“You – you have a bunker?” Garcia squeaked.

“Cas, if you had come when I asked the first time, we wouldn’t have need to drive over three freaking states!”

Castiel bowed his head. Garcia thought for a moment how sad and sweet the angel looked.

“I understand, Dean.” Castiel replied, before he took them to the bunker.

**12.24am**

When Hotch woke, all he could see were the shadows on the wall made by the bedside lamp, the only light in the room. Stirring slightly, he tried to move into a comfortable position but found that his hands were cuffed behind him to the railings and his ankles tied. The curtains were drawn and the door was locked.

Across from him on Rossi’s bed sat Reid – no, Kelpie – who was resting his face in his palms as he lay on his stomach, eyeing Hotch with delight.

“Hi, Aaron.”

“Kelpie, let me go and we can talk this over.” Hotch tried his best to stay calm, even when he knew that Reid was likely being held hostage again and who knew what they’d done with JJ. His only relief was that Garcia may have alerted the rest of the team to their predicament.

“Kelpie?” the shapeshifter asked, raising a puzzled eyebrow.

“It’s – it’s the name Sam Winchester came up with for you.”

Kelpie snorted. “Well it’s certainly better than my real name. Anyway,” he pushed himself up and crossed his legs, gripping onto his ankles like a child, “I got bored. But I liked the BAU. I liked you so much that I didn’t shed Spencer’s skin. Then Crowley and the Winchesters bickered and I said that Crowley could prove to his mother and his subjects that he was powerful. Lure in the Winchesters and take what was his.”

Then Hotch noticed something. Tensing up, he asked, embarrassed, “Did you take my pants?”

Kelpie only smiled back at Hotch. “I needed to find your phone. Also, I wanted to make a distraction so it’s in pieces.”

Hotch didn’t have time for this. “Where’s Spencer?”

“Oh, he’s a bit tied up at the moment, but I’m sure he’ll stay away when the footage gets leaked to your Chief.” Kelpie stood up and walked towards the cupboard, “He’s perfectly safe.”

“Prove it!” Hotch found himself shouting, “Prove that Spencer is okay and I won’t fight you.”

“You can’t fight me anyway.”

“Spencer, JJ…if you hurt them…” Hotch began to threaten but Kelpie groaned loudly and pulled out a walkie-talkie from inside Spencer’s bag.

“Chatterbox, this is shapeshifter. Over.” Then Kelpie placed the walkie-talkie by Hotch’s ear.

“Spencer?” Hotch stammered, desperate.

“Hotch?” Reid’s weary voice came through, “Help me…”

“Spencer, don’t worry,” Hotch began as Kelpie rolled his eyes, “Where are you?”

“It’s cold in here,” came his tired reply, “and damp. I – I’m in a well and I heard church bells. I’ve been here for hours –“

“Okay, that’s enough.” Kelpie pulled the aerial down and then walked back to the cupboard. Pulling it open, he stood out of the way as Hotch peered over.

JJ was tied up inside, tape over her mouth. At least she had her clothes on, Hotch told himself. But she was still petrified.

Kelpie shut the door and sauntered back over to Hotch. “Your team won’t find you,” he eyed the man carefully, “The Winchesters won’t find you. You’re all alone.” He cocked his neck and widened his eyes. “With me.”

Kelpie had to have an endgame, Hotch reminded himself, otherwise he wouldn’t have done this. He had to have something in mind. Spencer was still alive and for the moment, so were himself and JJ.

Rossi, Morgan and Kate were still out there, going over the local farms and fields. Hotch wondered where they had been all night, if they hadn’t returned.

As if the shapeshifter could read his mind, Kelpie had taken Hotch’s phone from the bedside drawer and was leafing through it. “You have a lot of calls from your team,” he murmured, pressing play on a voicemail.

_“Hotch? It’s Morgan. Listen, we’re sitting by the cornfield. Haven't found anything yet, but we're going to keep looking.”_

The message ended and Kelpie showed Hotch the time-stamp. That was only half an hour ago.

“They’re fine,” Kelpie frowned at him, “I’m not interested in them. Don’t you know it’s you I want?”

Kelpie was staring at him in an unhealthy way. Hotch could guess that the shapeshifter was mentally undressing him. For him, the agent realized with a sense of dread, having the both JJ and Hotch was a dream come true.


	5. Chapter 5

**12.30am**

Rossi, Morgan and Kate had no clue what exactly had happened in the last minutes. All that they knew was that Garcia had appeared with an angel – an angel in the body of Jimmy Novak, apparently – and gabbling about Reid being in trouble.

Morgan had told his baby girl to pause for breath, but she said she couldn’t. Then she had gripped onto Morgan’s clothes and buried her face in his shirt, whimpering, “Help me.”

Right now, the four of them were sitting around a table in the Men of Letters bunker with Castiel standing by the archway and staring at them, while the two brothers read up on Lebanon’s geographical area.

“So this is your…your base?” Rossi asked after an awkward silence, looking about the room as the Winchesters made their way further in. From what he’d heard of the two brothers and what he’d assumed from what they said about hunting, Rossi had suspected that at best the two would have a wooden cabin without central heating or an actual Cold War bunker with shelves of tinned food and a ham radio. He didn’t expect to find a spacious room that he was secretly rather jealous of.

“Well, it’s been our base for the last couple of years,” Dean scratched the back of his head as he walked towards the bookshelves, “Safest place to be when Crowley and a shapeshifter are after the lot of you.”

“Do you have any computers here?” Garcia asked, “I mean – thanks for bringing us here, but I work best with electronics.”

“Nothing built in your lifetime,” Dean murmured, “You read as fast as the kid?”

At the mention of their colleague, the four faces fell and Dean realized he’d touched upon an uncomfortable spot. He held his hands up, explaining, “Look, I’m sorry. But, but maybe we might set up the wifi.”

Garcia mumbled a thanks. As Sam left the room, he asked, “Anyone want a drink?”

Everybody said that they were fine, but Sam was a little unsure that they were.

“Right,” Dean held a map open on the table, a bright red X indicating the bunker, “Does anybody have any rough idea about where the kid could be?”

Another awkward silence. Dean sighed and then asked, “Have any of you seen something – unusual at all?”

“No, sorry.” Morgan shook his head sadly, “Hotch and JJ might know where he is. But where are they?”

Sam came back into the room. “They’re probably with Kelpie right now, if what Garcia said is right.” As Sam sat down next to her, he had a look at a satellite image of Lebanon next to the Men of Letters map.

“They were at the motel when I showed them the – video.” Garcia mumbled.

“Video?” Morgan asked.

Garcia sighed. She might as well tell them this. They were going to find out somehow. “Kelpie – he murdered Ashley. He made a video of himself – torturing her. While in Spencer’s form.”

Dean swore under his breath. Morgan tensed, his hands closing into fists. Rossi’s stomach went in somersaults.

“Anyway,” Sam coughed, sitting up in his seat, “we have to look for any hidden places that could be warded against angels. It’s most likely that he’s being held there.”

“That reminds me,” Rossi turned in his seat and looked directly at Castiel, “Exactly how are you an angel, Mr Novak?”

“Jimmy Novak was my vessel. Unfortunately his soul has moved onto Heaven, but I still use this body for when I am on Earth.” Castiel answered firmly and clearly.

“Listen, guys,” Morgan put a hand up before Rossi could start a Catholic conversation with an angel, “Every criminal has an endgame. They have a plan. How long do you think Kelpie took over this time?”

“I’d say since the jet left Virginia.” Garcia piped up, still focused on looking between the map and the iPad. Kate, sat by Dean, was pointing out places where the agents had been.

Morgan nodded. “Okay, well, it’s obvious that Kelpie and the King of Hell want something. Would they just do this to mess with us?”

“Not really sure,” Sam replied, “Crowley’s not some low-level demon with just mischief in mind. He’s the King of Hell and he’s got the First Blade. Problem is, last time we were working with you lot, Crowley went all ‘I Dream of Deannie’ and I severely doubt that failure made him look intimidating.”

The agents had no clue what Sam had been talking about, but they got the gist of things.

“Dean,” Castiel broke the silence, “Should I go to the motel?”

“That would be the best option, yes.” Dean carried on examining the map and ticking off anywhere that may be used as a storage unit.

“So do you want me to go?”

Dean looked up. “Yeah.”

“I shall go, Dean.” Castiel disappeared with the sound of fluttering wings.

Rossi stared at where the angel had stood. He’d been brought up to expect angels to be solemn and caring, sure. To not let evil in. But good grief, _Hotch_ smiled more than this guy.

**1.51am**

Aaron watched as Kelpie lay on the floor, eyes staring at the ceiling above him. The shapeshifter had been over-excited and was now worn out.

The agent struggled, but he knew this wasn’t going to work. His mind jumped between wondering if the others would find them and what Reid was going through. He’d already been abducted by these Unsubs twice in three months and on top of that, had learnt that the paranormal was real.

Hotch tried to concentrate on what Reid had said. Church bells, a well…they couldn’t be holding him too far away. Hotch hoped not, at least.

Kelpie groaned as he pushed himself up. “Ashley whined far too much,” he told Hotch, looking directly at the wall instead of at the agent trussed up on the bed opposite, “A very disappointing substitute for pretty Jennifer, I must say.”

“Why did you do that?” Hotch asked, trying his best to hide his fury, “Why did you torture her?”

“Why not?”

Those two words were something Hotch would have expected to hear from the vilest of Unsubs. The rapists, the psychopaths, the ones who knew full well what they were doing to their victims. They were not words he expected to ever hear with Spencer’s voice.

He groaned and pushed his head back into the pillow. “Please, just let Reid go.”

“Not until Crowley gets what he wishes.”

“And what exactly does Crowley want?” Hotch demanded, sternly, “Is it what you want? Did the both of you want to rape and torture those women to death?”

Kelpie hung his head in silence for a brief moment.

Then Hotch realized.

Kelpie may have started off as a willing servant, the submissive. But he had evolved into a dominant after his obsessions grew out of control. Hotch presumed that a shapeshifter wouldn’t have an identity. They mimicked other people in order to find themselves. And now that Kelpie had finally ‘found himself’ by stealing Reid’s life, he wanted it again. Was working for the King of Hell really that awful? From what Reid had said, the King of Hell was constantly bickering with his servants and his over-bearing mother. He’d have wanted to leave with Kelpie, to wreck havoc. But Kelpie’s reaction told Hotch enough. The King of Hell wasn’t interested in the raping and torturing, even if he was willing to murder innocents to lure the BAU.

The two dominants were going head to head.

And this was never a good sign.

Kelpie let out an exhausted whine, lying on the bed beside Hotch and holding an arm over the man’s chest. Hotch’s stomach lurched and he turned his head away from the shapeshifter. Kelpie either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“You know,” Kelpie explained, his head resting on Hotch’s chest, “I meant what I said. You’re an exemplary man. Prosecutor by nineteen, but chose to join the BAU to help people. Well,” he chuckled, “it hasn’t helped you, has it? Jason Gideon –“

Hotch wondered if it was just him, or did Kelpie’s voice suddenly tremble? The shapeshifter then cleared his throat and carried on.

“Pretty Haley. Poor, poor Spencer Reid. He really is the damsel out of you all, isn’t he?”

“So does that mean you’re the woman in your relationships?” Hotch joked, trying to keep his nerves steady in preparation for what he knew was very likely to happen.

Kelpie gave a high chuckle. “Maybe.”

Hotch tried to push away, but the shapeshifter’s arm reached behind the agent’s neck and rested his slender fingers on Hotch’s shoulder.

“I’ve waited for you, Aaron,” Kelpie’s voice dropped to a whisper, “Someone…strong…someone in power. Caring, determined, attractive. I meant what I said to you.”

The shapeshifter was feeding off of Hotch’s fear, as a vampire would with blood. Hotch definitely didn’t want to think about what Kelpie intended for him. This was someone who had assaulted and killed four women as a lure. The shapeshifter was a monster by both definitions and could easily snap Hotch’s neck if he disobeyed.

Hotch couldn’t help thinking that this situation looked incredibly wrong.

“Kelpie,” Hotch swallowed, “please let Spencer and JJ go. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t harm them. Don’t hurt the team.”

“Of course I can’t harm Spencer,” Kelpie told a complete lie, “We’re linked. I can’t impersonate him if he’s hurt.”

Hotch hoped this was true. Kelpie nestled into the man’s chest and sighed, listening to Hotch’s anxious breathing. Kelpie appeared as if he was beginning to act out a bizarre fantasy. He certainly seemed to be enjoying himself while whatever his partner was doing went ahead.

Hotch couldn’t help but feel that this was so, so wrong.

“He’s…” Kelpie murmured, “…torn up over Gideon’s death.” Hotch suddenly realized that the shapeshifter was talking about Reid. “He’s still sitting, waiting, for one more chess game. The chess game he’s already waited eight years to play and going to wait for forever. Having an IQ of 187 is all very well and good, but when not one sliver of information contains how to stop hurting…”

“Do you want to talk about it, R– Kelpie?” Hotch stopped himself just in time. The shapeshifter looked up.

“Every human has their own individual room in Heaven. Their happiest memories are played out forever. Gideon will be playing chess and fishing for eternity.”

“Those are the facts,” Hotch was trying and failing to fully convince himself that he wasn’t talking to Reid, “What does Spencer feel? You mirror him in every way.”

“Stop being the profiler for one moment, Aaron, and just lie back and get it over with.”

Then the door opened. Hotch looked up to see a man in a trench coat standing there. Kelpie sprang up from the bed and eyed the stranger.

“Move away from the human.” Castiel told Kelpie, but all the shapeshifter did was smile and dive into the bathroom. Hotch silently cursed himself for not applying salt to the windowsill in there. As Castiel ran around the bed, he saw the window open and the shapeshifter heading across the long grass.

Castiel looked at Hotch, tilting his head to the side, unblinking.

“I am Castiel,” the angel introduced himself, “I am an Angel of the Lord. I was sent by Dean Winchester to save you.”

Hotch was lost for words. Then he said, “JJ’s in the cupboard.”

Castiel walked over to the cupboard and pulled open the door. Seeing JJ sat down there, he leaned down and pulled the tape away from her mouth.

JJ stared at Hotch, her face pale. “I – heard – every word.”

The slab opened again. Kelpie stood over the hole, glaring down at Reid while holding the flashlight. Reid wondered how often he had ever looked that angry.

“Please let me go,” he whimpered, twisting his hands behind him despite the fact he knew he had no hope of slipping out of the handcuffs.

Kelpie just scowled silently. Then he knelt down and hissed, “Crowley is fed up with me and my little game. He left me. I’m alone now. I don’t have anyone. I might have had Aaron, but –“ he stopped, his face slowly growing back into a smile.

He breathed out began reaching inside his pocket. “Your team will be looking for you,” he said aloud, more to himself than to Reid, “They might figure out where very soon.” Kelpie leaned forward again with tape in his hands. Reid twisted away, turning his head, but it was no use and Kelpie swiftly gagged him.

Kelpie stood up and started pulling on the stone slab, tugging it across the grass. “I think I’ll be here when they do.” He pulled Reid’s stolen gun from inside its holster and dropped the flashlight into the well.

“And you’re bait.”

Kelpie dragged the stone slab back over, just enough so that the light could be seen amongst the darkness, in the moonless night.

As expected, Castiel looked out into the night and saw the dim light in the distance. He would have to take the agents back to the bunker.

Looking back at the humans as they left through the front entrance, Hotch still without pants, the angel asked, “Are either of you prepared for me to take you to the Winchesters?”

“What about our team?” JJ asked.

“They are safe. I promise.” Castiel told her.

“Thanks.” JJ murmured.

This evening couldn’t get any weirder, could it?


	6. Chapter 6

**2.03am**

“What exactly is there, Cas?” Dean asked as the angel entered the bunker.

“I only saw a bright light,” Castiel answered, “We should check the map.”

JJ and Hotch were now sat at the table with the other BAU agents. Hotch was now wearing Castiel’s trench coat and was trying to focus his mind on the task at hand.

“The co-ordinates you suggested seem to imply a well,” Garcia zoomed in on the iPad, “about a quarter of a mile northwest of the motel.” Then she looked up at her superior. “If you don’t mind me asking, sir,” she asked in a quiet voice, “What happened to your trousers?”

Hotch blushed, resting his face in his hands before running his fingers through his hair. JJ spoke for him instead.

“Kelpie –“ she took a deep breath, “ – tied him to the bed.”

“Oh my god,” Rossi muttered, more to himself than the others but they heard him anyway, “Did he –“

“No,” Hotch spoke for the first time since leaving the motel, sternly, “But I did find out some – information. Kelpie apparently had an argument with the King of Hell and the demon just…abandoned him, I think. That’s roughly what I managed to gather, anyway.”

“Wait, wait,” Sam put a hand out and looked up from the map, “You’re saying that Crowley just left Kelpie to his own devices?”

“Probably.” Hotch retorted.

Sam frowned for a second before he asked, as gently as he could manage, “What exactly happened in the motel? It’s okay, you can take your time.”

The team had heard that phrase uttered countless times before, but rarely ever to them. The closest thing to that sentence anyone had said to Hotch had been after George Foyet had attacked him.

And none of the agents wanted a repeat of that incident.

“I –“ the words got stuck in Hotch’s throat, “He said that he…wanted me. He said that Crowley didn’t want any part of this anymore. He said…he said he waited for me. That he wanted someone in power.”

“Well why didn’t he just stay as one of Crowley’s goons?” Dean raised an eyebrow. Then it dawned on him what the creature had really meant.

“Wait,” he almost smiled, the idea was so ridiculous, “Are you saying that Kelpie arranged all of this, th-the murders, planting my semen, luring you lot to Kansas…so he could have sex with you?”

All eyes were on Hotch. He nodded briefly and replied, “I think so.”

“That…” Dean felt queasy, “Even for us, that is…that is some freaky shit.”

“Got it!” Garcia chirped and everyone was suddenly spared the uncomfortable image of Reid’s body being turned on by their boss, “There’s what appears to be a well here.”

Sam and Dean could have kicked themselves. “That’s the Men of Letters well,” Sam groaned, “Filled with holy water. Of course we never have thought of looking there.”

“Sorry,” Morgan put his hands out, cocking an eyebrow, “did you say that he’s inside a well?”

“It’s nearly empty,” Sam reassured the team, “We’d better get going.” He headed out of the room, feeling for his gun on his belt. Apart from Garcia, the others followed after him. Castiel just disappeared with a flap of his wings.

“And keep communication lines open, baby girl!” Morgan shouted as they left.

_Okay, okay,_ Garcia told herself when they had gone, _I’m in a secret headquarters with my teammate’s life on the line and I am probably surrounded by answers to all the mysteries of the world. I hope the Winchesters will let me read the books in here when this is all over._

Kelpie crouched down in the long grass, like a hunter stalking its prey, waiting. His finger itched on the trigger and he was desperate to shoot the first idiot who came up to the well.

He heard a voice. But it wasn’t from beside the well. Instead, it was just above him.

“Hello, shapeshifter.”

Kelpie cursed himself for not taking the angel into account. Slowly looking up, he attempted a smile. The angel did not smile back. Rather, he demanded slowly, “Where is the agent?”

“Take a look for yourself,” Kelpie sneered, “Oh, wait a moment, it’s warded against angels.”

Castiel frowned even more, if that were somehow possible, before his eyes flicked to the left for a fraction of a second. He could see the light from the well while keeping Kelpie in his sights. But the problem with monsters is that they can be unpredictable when they are about to attack.

Then the sounds of running footsteps came closer. Castiel could hear the brothers shouting out the agent’s name, with the rest of the team following suit.

“Reid!” Morgan shouted, heart thudding inside his chest, as he came up to the well. All he heard in response was a muffled cry, but it was enough. Morgan’s eyes still adjusting to the darkness, the man placed his hands on the slab as Hotch came up behind him, shortly followed by JJ and Rossi. “Help me get this off!”

Sam stopped in his tracks, listening, as Dean and Kate approached the well and the six of them started heaving the heavy stone off. Glancing around, Sam shone his flashlight, calling, “Cas?”

“Hello, Sam.”

Sam turned around and saw Castiel standing behind him. Then Sam noticed that the angel was holding the shapeshifter’s neck, forcing him into the ground on his knees. Kelpie slowly lifted his hand, still smirking horribly.

Sam demanded, flashlight shining in Kelpie’s face, “Where’s Crowley?”

Kelpie snorted. “How should I know? I don’t really care any more. Just go ahead and shoot me.”

Sam froze. Is that what Kelpie really wanted? Looking up at the angel, he saw Castiel standing confused.

“He’s surrendered, I believe,” Castiel seemed unsure.

Hearing a loud thump, Sam looked over his shoulder and saw the stone slab was now on the ground, his brother and the FBI agents helping Reid out of the well. Then Sam looked back down at the shapeshifter, downtrodden and broken.

“I’m too human,” Kelpie sighed, “I – I feel human. But I’m not human.” Then he held his head on its side. “What am I, Winchester?” It was a genuine question.

Sam had no clue what to do or to say.

“You okay, kid?” Morgan asked Reid. The tape and rope had been removed and Dean was trying to saw the handcuffs in two.

“I’m rather famished,” Reid answered weakly, then he raised an eyebrow, “Hotch, what are you wearing?”

Hotch blushed, turning his head. As the handcuffs snapped and Reid shakily managed to stand, Morgan supporting him, the youngest agent asked, horrified, “He didn’t –?”

“He tried,” JJ answered for Hotch, “but I don’t think Kelpie – he started talking about Gideon –“

Reid squinted as he made out the shapeshifter by Sam and Castiel some way off. Kelpie had seemed miserable earlier, acting cocky when he was really broken inside. The murders, the kidnapping, it had all been an attempt to have Hotch. The only creature, human or supernatural, that Kelpie appeared to have affection for.

Because while Kelpie certainly could pass for Spencer Reid looks wise, a shapeshifter was only a copycat, never actually owning a single identity. On top of all of Spencer’s memories and experiences stuffed inside his brain, the combination of that and feeling lost had made Kelpie desperate.

Reid said as much as he walked over to his imposter, Hotch and Dean on either side.

“He still killed four women!” Dean argued.

Reid nodded, still looking ahead. “He hurt because he hates himself.”

“Why?” Hotch asked, his voice shaking, “Do you, Spencer?”

“I’m not sure.” Reid didn’t say whether he meant Kelpie or himself. Neither of the men pressed him.

When they approached, Kelpie started to try and stand, even with Castiel’s tight grip on his neck. Hotch automatically felt for his gun, before remembering he didn’t have it.

But Dean had his. And he instantly shot right into Kelpie’s neck, letting the creature slump to the ground like a ragdoll. The rest of the team started making their way up. Castiel only looked down, slightly alarmed and rather bewildered.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, “What you do that for?”

“He –“ Dean swallowed, “He was getting away.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Reid knelt down beside the shapeshifter who, despite the fact he was now dying, managed to still smile, “He wasn’t planning on getting away.”

Even in the dim, moonless light only lit by flashlights, Reid saw his own face smiling back at him, before Kelpie reached out for his hand, unable to speak with the blood seeping out.

Reid felt conflicted, but he still grabbed the shapeshifter’s hand, watching his Unsub side drift away.

**9.40am**

The case was unsolved, Hotch told the chief on the phone as they left Kansas. They couldn't find the Unsub and they needed to return immediately. That there had been a suspect, but he had managed to escape. His identity was unknown at present. It was an unfortunate failure and they would have to leave the file open.

Except that the whole team knew that the case would never be solved.

Sitting on the jet, Hotch surveyed his team. JJ was sitting next to Kate, neither of whom were talking, just holding themselves together. Rossi was lying back in his seat, trying to sleep after the events of the past night. Morgan was staring out of the window. Garcia was the only one talking, mumbling about some books from the bunker that she had somehow managed to magically download onto her iPad. It would add some security for Quantico, she had offered.

Reid was rubbing his arm with his hand. He seemed distant and forlorn. Of course he would be, Hotch told himself, the boy just watched his imposter die. No amount of therapy would be able to put that to rest.

But the team were willing to help. Help in any way they could.

Even as the jet left the field and slowly ascended into the air, Hotch simply looked out at the three men below. Two men and an angel, to be precise. Looking up in silence.

And hoped that he would never need to set eyes on them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if this is a little late. I have been experiencing a rather difficult identity crisis. Which you might have been able to tell, frankly.


End file.
